


Born Alpha

by infiniteeight



Series: Made Omega [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Knotting, M/M, Watersports, alpha!Phil, omega!Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-11 10:54:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1172203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infiniteeight/pseuds/infiniteeight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Companion fic to "Made Omega". This is Phil's POV.</p><p>While Clint was under Loki's control, he was transformed from a beta into an omega. It shouldn't make a difference--Phil has always treated his colleagues the same, regardless of gender. </p><p>But Clint has always been the exception to that rule.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Born Alpha

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Selori for a pretty much instantaneous beta. :D

When the doctor steps out of the room to get the release paperwork, Phil hops off the examination bed and roots around until he finds a mirror. It's just a bit bigger than his hand, but that's large enough for him to clean up and put his suit in order. Bad enough that he'd gone haring off after a damn demigod alone, like a newly-bonded Alpha too addled by protective instincts to think. Worse that he'd woken with Clint's name on his lips, leaving no doubt about what had put him in that state. Phil didn't need to wander around SHIELD looking like he'd spent the entire battle unconscious in the detention room, even if he had.

A flush of shame goes through him at the thought. Falling for Loki's illusions he could forgive himself -- Thor had done the same. But not bracing for potential recoil on a brand new weapon was a rookie move. Thank God for Natasha, because Phil had been utterly useless to Clint. _To all of them,_ Phil reminds himself. 

Setting the mirror aside, Phil hitches a hip up on the exam bed again, not quite sitting as he waits for his doctor to return. He's going to have to be careful for the next week or two. Even at the best of times, Clint sometimes takes Phil's protectiveness as a lack of confidence in his abilities, a lack of trust. Between Clint's inevitable guilt about being used against his own people and the way Clint's abduction had sent Phil's instincts into overdrive, they're going to be walking a fine line for awhile.

If Clint was an omega... Phil sighs and gives in to the momentary urge to rub at his aching temples. He isn't. He isn't an omega, and he isn't going to react to Phil's pheromones, and goddamnit, you'd think after all the time they'd known each other Phil's instincts would have learned that Clint _doesn't belong to him._

The doctor comes back and Phil is in the midst of scrawling his signature when Nick steps into the room. "Busting your way out of medical already?" he asks.

Phil holds up the clipboard and signed form. "It's not busting my way out if I complete the appropriate paperwork." He hands both to the doctor, who nods politely to the two of them and yet hustles his way out of the exam room with notable speed.

Nick snorts. "Just because your version of busting out of medical involves glaring and AMA forms instead of escaping into the drop ceiling doesn't make it any less busting out."

"How is Barton doing?" Phil asks, adjusting his jacket cuffs carefully. "I was told that Romanoff got him back, and that he came through the battle all right, but that's all."

Nick hums and Phil looks up sharply, because he'd been expecting teasing over his ridiculous, dead-end reactions to Clint. Even his abrupt open interest doesn't elicit the amusement he's used to seeing from Nick in moments like this. "His doctor alerted me to an...unexpected element of Loki's influence over him. I think everything will go a lot smoother if you're in on this." Nick knocks on the wall and another doctor--not Phil's--steps into the room. 

Phil recognizes her--Doctor Banerjee, solid work but she's never been the primary physician for any of his (or Clint's) major injuries. That's just luck; SHIELD employs a lot of doctors. "Doctor," he says. "What is Agent's Barton's status?"

The doctor takes a breath, fingers tightening on the chart she holds for a moment, but she speaks before Phil can chide her for the hesitation. "At some point during his captivity," she says, and Phil gives her credit for using the term 'captivity', "Agent's Barton's gender changed from beta male to omega male."

"Excuse me?" Phil says automatically, because he can't have just heard that. It's impossible.

"Agent Barton is now an omega male," Banerjee repeats. "I understand how this sounds, sir, but we've run the blood work twice and conducted a physical exam, and it's been confirmed." Phil can't speak, still working on absorbing the words. After a moment, Doctor Banerjee goes on, hesitantly. "I haven't told him yet, sir. The Director suggested that Agent Barton might have an easier time with the news if an alpha that he trusts is present."

"Of course." Phil glances at Nick, then back at the doctor. "May we have a moment, first?"

"Of course," Banerjee echoes, and steps out of the exam room. 

Nick reaches over and closes the door behind her. "You okay, Cheese?"

"I know this is completely irrational," Phil says slowly, looking Nick in the eye, "but...is this my fault?"

Nick's brows go up. "How the fuck could Loki changing Barton's gender be _your_ fault?"

Phil laughs, just a hair hysterically, and rubs a hand over his face. "I don't know. But I've wished for it so many damned times, I can't help..." he shrugs.

Nick puts his hands on Phil's shoulders and squeezes. "This is not your fault," he says. "Loki didn't know who the fuck you were when he took Barton, and if he did, if he read your mind through half a dozen sub-levels in the middle of a crisis when Barton's gender was the furthest thing from your mind, then he wouldn't have cared enough about you to make the change." Nick smirks. "You just aren't that fucking important, Cheese."

"You're so reassuring," Phil deadpans, but he relaxes. Nick is right. Loki would only have changed Clint to satisfy his own need for a power trip. Suddenly Phil goes cold. "Clint really is okay, otherwise?" he asks urgently. "Loki didn't--"

"Rape him?" Nick finishes before Phil can say it. "No, he never got the chance." Phil slumps in relief. "Are you going to be okay?" Nick goes on. "I didn't expect this to throw you so much."

"I'll be fine," Phil says automatically. Then he stops to really think about it and leans back against the exam bed, bracing his hands on the mattress. "I think I will, anyway." He shoots Nick a wry look. "Some of it will depend on Barton. I've always been more protective of him than I should be. I can't imagine I'll react less protectively, but I might go the other direction, and if I do, will it bother Barton? He's used to reacting to alphas as a beta would; will feeling an omega's instincts upset him? Will he feel an omega's instincts at all, or are those developmental rather than chemical?" Phil shakes his head. "My knowledge of biology is not up to answering these questions."

"Neither is mine," Nick says. "Time to get the doctor back in here, I think."

The doctor's briefing on Barton's status is short and to the point; the change is comprehensive, consistent, and stable on every level they've had time to check, which means it is almost certainly permanent. And he'll be going into heat in about two weeks. After that, Phil has to concentrate to remember that he has questions. Unfortunately, the doctor doesn't have much in the way of answers. Clint has omega hormones, but not only is there still a lot of debate in research circles over the relative importance of genetics, hormones, developmental factors, and cultural factors to omega behavior, there's also no way to know if Loki's transformation has covered all of those bases, or only the physical ones. They'll just have to wait and see.

"We'd better go talk to Agent Barton," Phil says at last. "He'll be quite aware that this examination and the subsequent tests have gone on far too long."

They're two doors away from Clint's exam room when the scent of distressed omega reaches Phil. Not just distressed omega, but distressed omega _Clint_. Every instinct Phil has sits up and screams at him to _fix it_. Before he quite realizes what he's done, he's come to a standstill, hands gripping Nick and the doctor's arms to make them stop, too. "Cheese?" Nick asks.

"I don't think you need to be present, Director," Phil says. Clint will only be more alarmed if he thinks his issues have been kicked that high up the ladder. "Doctor, I'd like a minute alone with Agent Barton. I'll knock when you should come in."

"Of course," Doctor Banerjee says, and something in Phil relaxes.

"Take care of him, Phil," Nick says, squeezing Phil's shoulder before departing.

Phil braces himself for the rush of pheromones before he opens the exam room door, which is the only reason that the wash of anxiety doesn't bowl him over. Clint needs him to be calm, so he will be calm, damn it. 

Fortunately, Clint relaxes pretty much the moment he lays eyes on Phil. Then he takes a scenting breath--something that betas almost never do, their sense of smell not being as finely tuned--and the last of the tension goes out of his body. Phil doesn't think Clint realizes what he's done, or that he would never have bothered scenting Phil before. Clint is calmer, though, and it's time to get all the cards on the table, so after a quick verbal check in, Phil knocks to bring Banerjee into the room. Clint's gaze bounces between them, and Phil moves automatically to Clint's side. It's all he can do not to lay a possessive, claiming hand on Clint's shoulder. The doctor might be a beta, but she's also presenting to Clint as threatening, thanks to the mystery of the long examination.

Phil's resolve doesn't last long, not with every line of Clint's body crying out for reassurance. Before he quite realizes what he's doing, Phil not only has his hand on Clint, he's speaking in his best alpha voice, making sure Clint knows that he's safe, taken care of. The content of his words might be procedural, but it's what Clint needs to hear, and Phil's purpose is to give Clint what he needs. He can't help the surge of satisfaction when Clint takes his advice and agrees to talk to Tony.

It takes more strength than Phil would care to admit to step away from Clint's side and leave the exam room, and it makes him ridiculously happy that Clint hops off the exam bed and follows him back to his office rather than leaving to find Tony or going to hole up and try to get his head together.

"You mind if I crash here for awhile?" Clint asks, flopping down on the couch in Phil's office. "I'll go talk to Tony later, but I could really use a nap."

"Of course, go ahead," Phil says automatically. With Clint's new scent, he'll probably destroy Phil's concentration--no matter how accustomed he is to Clint hanging out in his office, Clint hadn't smelled like this before--but something deep inside Phil rumbles in satisfaction at the knowledge that Clint _wants_ to be in his space. He pauses and runs his gaze over Clint for a moment before sitting down at his desk. "Have you eaten yet today?"

"Breakfast," Clint mutters, voice muffled because he's turned on his side, showing his back to Phil, trusting.

"It's well past lunch," Phil says. Clint doesn't respond, his breathing slow and even. Phil shakes his head. "I'll get you something for when you wake up," he tells Clint's back, smiling, and turns back to his computer.

Phil flies through the reports and e-mails he has to approve and answer. Far from being distracting, Clint's scent relaxes him. There is an omega here, an omega he's responsible for, who trusts him, and that omega is sleeping; that makes this space safe and home. Phil's trained situational awareness doesn't relax, exactly--he still needs to be aware for Clint--but it does downshift into a comfortable sort of focus.

When Clint stirs, rising from sleep, Phil stands and walks over to him, laying his hand gently on his shoulder. Clint turns his head to look up at him, smiling. Phil's heart skips a beat. "I'm going to get you some food, okay?" he says.

"Sounds good." Clint rolls onto his back and stretches. Phil watches and can't resist taking a quick scenting breath, drawing the warm, sweet smell of Clint in and savoring it even as his eyes trace the strip of skin at Clint's waist that is exposed by the movement. 

Clint, oblivious, cracks his neck and Phil manages to step back. "Back in five," he says, pausing until Clint nods before leaving the room.

It's hardly the first time Phil has brought Clint food, but it feels different now. Everything feels a little different, and over the days that follow Phil finds himself grateful that he never promised Clint that nothing would change about them as a result of his new gender. It would have been reassuring, at least at the time, but it would also have been a promise he'd be forced to break, because things _have_ changed, on Clint's side as much as on Phil's.

Where once Phil would have been satisfied with banter and speaking glances, now he finds himself reaching out for Clint more often than not. But where Clint would have simply accepted a touch before, if not shrugged it off, now he leans into it. Phil is scenting much more often now, but Clint never made a habit of testing the air for pheromones before, and now he's doing it all the time.

Most different of all, Clint seems...happier, in a way. Or at least more satisfied, more comfortable. It's possible he's simply being more open with his emotions, but Phil doesn't think so. There are nods of satisfaction in briefings where there were none before, and he isn't getting into as much trouble. Not that he butts heads with his colleagues any less, but he seems to realize now when it's about to cross the line, and he lets Phil handle it--which is part of Phil's job, after all--instead of ending up in the infirmary with bruised knuckles and black eyes.

About a week after the change, Clint strolls into HQ with a liquid ease in his movements that makes Phil want to put himself between Clint and every other alpha in SHIELD, no matter how impossible that is. He takes a deep breath to steady himself and oh, that was a mistake, because Clint smells _amazing_. His scent is richer than usual, not really pre-heat, but somehow closer to the surface. It's all Phil can do to walk with Clint to the range instead of herding him into Phil's office. But he does it, because he is a mature alpha and not some pup to be led around by his knot.

When he realizes Steve is also at the range, working on one of his firearms certifications (SHIELD has several; Steve is working his way through them), Phil gives in to the urge to squeeze Clint's arm in familiar farewell and to secure a promise that Clint will join him for lunch. He may be a mature alpha, but he's not going to risk Clint forgetting who's always taken care of him.

Phil is halfway back to his office when he reexamines that thought and realizes that he really needs to talk to Jasper. And Maria.

He calls Maria as soon as he gets back to his office and asks her and Jasper--first names--if they can come chat. They're locking his office door behind them ten minutes later, which is either a testament to how rarely he calls them at work for personal reasons or an indication that they saw this coming. Honestly, he's kind of hoping for the latter.

The two of them take the two chairs in front of Phil's desk, and Maria leans forward, her expression deadly serious. "Let me guess," she says. "Barton is contagious, and now _you_ need omega 101."

"I'd hardly need you here for that," Phil replies dryly.

Maria laughs and sprawls back in the chair. "Hey, Jasper and I come as a package. It _is_ about Barton's change, though, isn't it? You've spent years treating him like your omega; I can't imagine you wouldn't make it a reality now that you can."

"I can, but _should_ I?" Phil asks. Both of them blink at him and Phil sighs and runs a hand over his head. "Clint was a beta, not the slightest bit interested in belonging to anyone, for thirty-five years. He's been an omega for just over a week. How can I ask him to make decisions about the rest of his life when he's had that little time to adjust?"

"There's a difference between 'not the slightest bit interested in belonging to anyone' and 'not driven by instinct to pursue belonging to anyone'," Maria points out. "How do you know it was the former and not the latter?"

Phil starts to reply, but Jasper shakes his head and jumps in, cutting him off. "Never mind all of that. You're both missing the important part here, probably because you're both alphas. Yeah, an omega has a pretty strong instinct to bond," he says, "but it's not indiscriminate, not even during a heat."

"I know that omegas can still think during heat--" Phil begins, but Jasper shakes his head again.

"Not what I mean. Heat may be about babies and getting bred, but bonding is about being safe."

Maria shifts. "I thought it was about...being in love." She colors slightly, maybe at the romanticism of it.

Jasper's expression softens. "Being in love is where our heads get into it," he tells her. "But I'm talking about instinct. And I'm telling you," he looks back at Phil, "that an omega who wants to bond is an omega who believes right down to the bone that they are with an alpha who will put their omega's physical and emotional care first. The urge to bond might be new, Phil, but Clint wouldn't be feeling it at all if the two of you hadn't spent years building the kind of trust and understanding a lot of married couples would kill for."

Maria leans over and kisses Jasper softly for that, sharing a look with him that sends a pang of envy through Phil, before she turns back to him. "And don't you dare say that Clint might not be feeling the urge to bond," she says. "He's been jumping at every opportunity to be close with you."

"We've always spent a lot of time together," Phil protests, but his heart isn't in it. "Mostly because of me."

"Did he always spend more time with you than with Natasha?" Jasper asks, raising his eyebrows.

Running through the days since Clint changed, Phil blinks to realize that he's spent time alone with Clint virtually every day, but that he only knows of a handful of occasions where Clint and Natasha did the same. "I hope she isn't upset with me," he murmurs, but can't help feeling a quiet pleasure at the realization.

"Romanoff isn't confused or willfully blind, unlike two men I could mention," Maria says dryly. "She knows what's going on; it'll even out more once you're safely bonded."

Phil flushes, thinking about bonding. About Clint's heat. "We haven't even talked about it." 

Jasper rolls his eyes. "And knowing Barton, you won't. He's always been the type to jump into personal decisions with both feet and sort out the details later. Just don't get self-sacrificing, okay? If he offers you his neck, trust his instincts."

"And if it really goes to hell, bonds _can_ be broken," Maria offers pragmatically.

"I'll think about it," Phil tells Jasper. He and Maria both grin. Possibly Phil's friends know him a little too well.

They certainly know Clint, as least when it comes to this. Not only is there no discussion, there is no forewarning, just a phone call from Tony and Clint whimpering in the background. That whimper reaches right into the back of Phil's brain and lights his instincts on fire. It doesn't matter that Phil doesn't have Clint's scent in his nose at that moment; Clint is in distress, _heat-related_ distress, and he's asking for Phil. Phil doesn't risk New York traffic--he takes Lola and lands on the Tower's roof. 

Phil keeps his pace to a brisk walk on the way from the landing pad to Clint's quarters, not because he isn't desperate to be with Clint, but because he knows if he runs he'll stop thinking and Clint is going to need him _steady_. Clint is going to be panicked and confused and adding franticness on Phil's part will only make that worse. He'll be calm because Clint needs him calm, and Clint's needs are what's important. "JARVIS, how is he?" 

"Desperate and rather inarticulate," JARVIS replies. "Sir is trying to reassure him, but he's fixated on seeing you." JARVIS sounds concerned.

"That's normal for a serious heat," Phil says; something in him rumbles in pleasure. There's a hint of Clint's scent lingering in the hall, probably from when Tony entered his quarters. It's thick and sweet and Phil closes his eyes and takes a deep breath of it, embraces his stirring arousal, and triggers the door.

He's wrapping Clint in his arms and claiming his mouth before he consciously registers the flood of scent or Tony's departure. Clint goes pliant against him and Phil surrenders to the instincts burning through him, because Clint is wholly abandoned to his needs as an omega and Phil won't give him anything less than everything he is hungering for.

Their mating is fast--Clint is shaking with urgency--but it's also incredibly sweet, because the more Phil gives Clint, the more Clint's trembling turns to breathless eagerness. Phil wraps himself as closely around Clint as he can, using the solidity of his own body to anchor the omega, and murmurs praise and promises into his ear. By the time Clint offers his neck, there's no thought in Phil's head but the certainty that this is _right_. He bites down without hesitation and luxuriates in the exhilaration of the bond settling into place between them.

The rush of bonding carries Clint to his climax, and the delicious clench of his body around Phil demands a knot. A growl keeps his omega braced for him and Phil nuzzles his bonding mark in approval for a moment before driving deep into Clint and abandoning himself to orgasm and the swell of his knot. Clint makes gorgeous, breathy noises as Phil's knot grows and it's perfect, it's everything Phil ever wanted, and he would say that this couldn't possibly get better, except then Clint wets submissively. Joy sings through Phil, because he never even _imagined_ that Clint would trust him that much, could give himself over so completely.

Of course, Clint, cringing in humiliation, doesn't know that. Phil gathers him close, rubbing his belly reassuringly; Clint actually releases another spurt in response. "It's good, I like it," Phil murmurs, and the tension melts right out of Clint. God, that's amazing. 

They don't talk much while they're tied. Just enough for Phil to make sure Clint has no regrets, and then he's content to let them drift and doze, resting for the next wave of the heat.

It lasts three days, though they spend most of the last day eating and sleeping, rousing midday for a long, intense mating that they probably could have gotten away with skipping, if either of them had been so inclined. Afterward, they manage to keep themselves on their feet long enough to change the sheets and clean up with a washcloth. When Phil wakes early the next morning the heat scent has mostly dissipated and he finds himself comfortably sprawled on his back, Clint curled against his side, nose brushing his shoulder. The clock says 6:23am and neither of them has to work today--next time they'll only get a pass for the actual days of the heat, but this time no one had been sure how things would go for Clint--so Phil just lies there and enjoys having his omega warm and close and safe. Normally more than ten or fifteen minutes lying around in bed makes him twitchy, but with Clint sleeping next to him, he drifts pleasantly until Clint stirs, just after 8:00am.

"Good morning," Phil says when he's sure Clint is awake.

"Morning," Clint returns. He rubs his nose against Phil's shoulder. "You smell awesome."

Phil chuckles. "So do you."

"I mean, you always smelled good," Clint elaborates. "But not only do you smell good, I can tell you're bonded. To me. That's..." He flushes. "I like that."

Phil rolls onto his side so that he can meet Clint's eyes, smiling. "I like it, too. I like you." And then, because Clint is still blushing and neither of them has said it yet, "I love you."

Clint's goes still and then rolls abruptly out of bed. "Okay, enough with the sap. Shower." Despite the apparent retreat, he tosses Phil an inviting look, and once they're under the water together, he quietly says it back. Phil kisses him tenderly, but otherwise doesn't make a big deal out of it. They have time to grow comfortable with the emotional things.

In the meantime, Phil knows the others will be worried about Clint, so they pull on jeans and t-shirts and venture up to the common floor to see if anyone is having breakfast. As it turns out, _everyone_ is having breakfast, which would make Phil suspicious, except that Natasha would never go along with a plan to ambush them en masse. Privately, yes, but not en masse.

Before Phil has time to worry, Clint chirps, "Good morning, everyone!" The team looks up and Clint all but bounces over to the table and turns an empty chair around so he can straddle it. "Check it out," he says, and yanks down the collar of his shirt to show off the bruise Phil gave him when they bonded.

Phil laughs, mostly at himself, because when has Clint ever been shy in the face of potential judgment? "Shameless," he accuses, but when he drops his hand to Clint's shoulder, he finds his fingers trailing tenderly over the mark. It'll fade like any other bruise and leave only their scents to identify their status; for the first time, Phil understands why some bonded couples get tattoos on their necks.

Natasha rolls her eyes at them, but she smiles, too. Tony cranes his neck to get a good look at the mark and nods, approving. "Good job, Phil."

Phil is about to make a snarky remark when Steve adds, "It's a good, solid bond."

Phil fights down a blush and swallows the words on his tongue. "Thank you."

"I'm told congratulations are in order?" Thor offers.

Phil can't help smiling down at Clint, and a thrill of happiness goes through him when he finds Clint already looking up at him. "They are," he says, not looking away from Clint. His omega.

"Congratulations," Bruce says. The others echoed him, and Phil gives the table as a whole another smile before he goes to the kitchen to fill a pair of plates for himself and Clint. He can still hear the team talking, or rather, peppering Clint with questions. Would Phil be moving in? (Clint says they haven't talked about it. Phil knows the answer is yes, unless Clint objects.) Were bonded couples allowed to work together? (Yes, unless they demonstrated that their professionalism wasn't up to the job.) Were they planning on kids? (Jesus, Tony, we haven't even talked about moving in together, you think we've talked about that?)

Phil pokes his head out of the kitchen to make sure that the questions aren't making Clint uncomfortable and finds him openly preening under all the attention. Smiling, Phil returns to filling their plates. He has a mate to feed.

~!~


End file.
